Need
by Calex
Summary: He needed her. She needed him. It was their need in each other that will be their downfall, but without anyone else... did that even matter anymore? BtVSRoswell


**Title**: Need

**Author: ** Calex

**Email**: aida. R/ 18

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything, the BtVS kids belongs to Joss Whedon and David Greenwalt (so says my book, and I'm not too sure about this, so I'm trusting it), the Roswell kids belong to Melinda Metz (again, so says the books).

**Characters:**

**Main**- Dawn Summers/Michael Guerin

**Mentioned**: Maria DeLuca, Liz Ortecho, Isabel Evans, Max Evans. Buffy Summers, Faith, Xander Harris, Willow Rosenberg, Rupert Giles, Angel, William the Bloody (Spike), Kennedy.

**Notes**: In trying to widen my BtVS repertoire, I came up with this little baby. Hope you all like.

**Feedback**: If possible, please.

**Distribution**: My LJ, TtH.

It was cold. Really cold. Snow had covered every single inch of uncovered space in a white blanket, and the air at the mountaintop was clean, clear, cold. Bitingly cold, the kind that hurt your lungs when you breathed in. It was sorta nice, in a way; she'd never lived in a place where the air was clean, before. It was always about the pollution in the big cities, but this… this was bliss. It was small, it was clean, it was quite. Best of all, there weren't that many people around. She could get used to this. Standing outside the cabin that she had rented, she plunged her hands into the pockets of her coat and blew out a breath. It formed in front of her, steam, the breath crystallising in front of her eyes to form shape, then finally disappearing. The sound of snow crunching underfoot made her stiffen and her body became utterly still.

"You know, if I didn't know who you are and what you are, I'd be extremely worried that you could pull off that trick."

"Michael," she smiled slightly at the scruffy haired guy standing behind her with his hand in the pocket of his jeans. Michael Guerin watched her, how the pale sunlight bathed that blonde streaked brown hair of hers and made it seem to glow. He saw how immediately after she realised that it was _him _ that was coming towards her, that tension that had kept her body so utterly still had left, and she seemed to relax. "What are you doing out here?"

"Needed to get some fresh air," he shrugged. "Saw you. And you?"

"I wanted to see this place for myself," she breathed out, slowly, and something dark filled her eyes. "They would have loved this. All of them."

"So you said." He walked towards her, towards this tall, slim girl that knew everything about him, that had seen everything about him, that had felt everything there was to him. He looked down at her, that little bit of height difference that made all the difference to her. She liked that he was taller than her, and he didn't really care one way or the other, other than that it made her happy. "What you doing out here alone?"

"I needed time to think, you know? Or un-think. I just…" she gestured helplessly, then dropped her hand. "It all happened too fast." Michael pulled her into his arms, then, placed his head on top of hers and held on to her, because like her, he had lost everything. Everything but the girl in his arms. Everything.

They had gone to Roswell. There was some kind of demon activity, some kind of new Big Bad that was unlike anything that they had faced before, and there was also some kind of prophecy that was involved. Buffy, Faith, Xander... all that mattered. All of them wiped out of existence, even Willow. Even strong, powerful Willow and that thought was what had her scared out of her wits time and time again. She had nightmares, every night she saw them, the battle. It was replayed in gruesome Technicolor in front of her eyes when she was in bed, in her dreams. Even her dreams weren't safe. Now, her dreams weren't only filled with memories of the tower, or of Chloe hanging in her bathroom. They were filled with new words, new voices, new screams. But they had did it. They had vanquished the big bad. Only to die themselves.

_ "Dawn," Buffy rasped, blood staining her lips a crimson that countless of lipsticks had tried to imitate, but failed. It was beautiful in a horrifying way, yet she couldn't seem to tear her gaze away from the red, red bubbling blood that stained her sister's lips. "Dawn, go. See who's alright, take them, and go. Save yourself. There isn't any hope for the rest of us."_

_"No, Buffy…" her voice had broken. "Don't leave me. Not again, please. I don't think I can live this time."_

_"You have to," her sister had said, fiercely. "You have to, Dawnie. For me. For Faith. For all of us, you have to live. We… I love you, sis. Go, go get whoever's going to live and run. Roswell's going to go kaploo-y like Sunnyhell. I want you out of here by then."_

_"Buffy-"_

_"Dawn, I am dying. Now, even now I'm dying. You can't do anything for me, but I can do something for you. Go, just go. Please just go. Save yourself and live for us, all of us. Go away, have that normal life you wanted. The slayer isn't going to be around to bring the demons to you, anymore." Tears streaked down both their cheeks, but Buffy had gotten that look in her eyes, the one that said that she had made up her mind and nothing was going to change it. Dawn took one look at **that** look and a sob tore from her throat. She hugged her sister fiercely and walked away. _

_"I love you."_

_She checked them, all of them. There was only one that was going to make it. Only one other person. Michael. And even then, he was pretty hurt. She had hooked his arm over her shoulder and had had helped him get out of that warehouse. What was it with warehouses? She got him into a car, and drove off, not looking back. She just drove and thanked whatever deity there was out there that they had managed to evacuate the town in time. She was speeding. 100 mph. 150. 200. The scenery passed by in a blur and soon she passed the "Welcome to Roswell" sign that they had recently posted up, the one with the green aliens in them. They drove on. And on. And in the distance, she heard the sound of an explosion and she cried, but she didn't look back._

"I know," Michael's soft voice brought her out of her reverie. "I know. I just wish I'd… I just wish I could have told them all. How much they meant to me. Max. Liz. Maria. Izzy. All of them." Dawn turned around in his arms so she could look up at him. Her eyes were grave when they sought his, grave and filled with an age old tiredness, pain and resignation. He knew his eyes had to be the same as hers. She placed her hands on either side of his head and smiled, sadly.

"They knew. They had to know, Michael. I'm thankful I got to say goodbye to Buffy, but…the rest. Wills. Faith. Giles…. All of them. It's only me, left. My family's gone."

"So's mine." She laughed, harshly.

"Fantastic lives we have, huh?" Michael shook his head at the bitter tone, leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, breathing in her scent. Her perfume… it was sweet and dark at the same time. Innocent with a hint of seductiveness. She suited the perfume, every bit of her did. He went mindless whenever he smelled it, because it was her. Their car smelled of her, of her perfume. Everything she touched. But it was somehow soothing because it was _hers._

"The best," he murmured and she let out a reluctant laugh. He pulled back and stared down at her again, the one thing in his life that made sense. The one thing in his life that he would hold on, to. His grief had been great, and if it wasn't for this one lone girl… he shuddered to think about the state he would be in. But she had pulled him through. She. She had made it possible for him to live, for them both to live, all the while mourning. She was so strong, stronger than anyone gave her credit for and now… and now she was a part of him. They had come to rely on each other so much, so much since that fateful day. Too much, really. They had clung to each other like children and the result of that clinging was that there was no one else for the two of them. No one else. There would only be them, and they were both deathly afraid of what would happen to either of them, to themselves, if one should die. They held on to each other fiercely, in defiance, almost, of the world. They wouldn't let themselves fall. They couldn't. And in that reliance in each other, the two were doomed.

He pulled her to him, fiercely, and she snuggled into his arms. They were holding on to each other so tightly that if anyone were looking, it would almost be impossible to tell where he left off and where she began. She had buried her face in the crook of his neck, and this time it was her who took stock of his scent. He smelled of grease. Of grass and wind and musk. He smelled like earth and the scent of him was just so strongly male… so strongly _Michael_ that it made her weak. Safe. It was Michael. Michael wouldn't let anything happen to her, as she would never let anything happen to Michael. They were just like that, them. The two of them. They kinda had to be, but they didn't regret it. At least, she didn't. And when Michael looked at her with the look in his eyes that he reserved only for her… then she knew that he didn't regret it, either. They might have signed their own death warrants when they came to rely on each other so much, but they didn't care. They didn't care because at that moment, and several other moments in the past and to come, that very reliance had made them safe. Had made them, for the briefest of moments, feel at peace.

What a pair, they were. She, an ancient mystical Key, and he… He an alien from another planet. She chuckled as she let words from a film wash over them in her quiet voice.

" 'What a pair we make, both trying to hide who we are, both unable to do so'."

"Are we?" he sounded amused. "Trying to hide who we are?"

"Aren't we?" she countered. She leaned up a little, and the friction that that caused between their bodies made him catch his breath, and her, hers. But she leaned into his ear, anyway. "Mr. Alien Man?"

"Point taken, Miss Key."

"Thank you." He pulled back from her, and saw that she had i _that_ /i smile on her face. He suddenly thought of another movie.

" 'You have 5 smiles'." Dawn laughed at that, shaking her head.

"Don't _ever_ liken me to that blonde fluff, you dig?" she tried to make her voice menacing, but Michael's roll of the eyes showed just how utterly she had failed.

"As long as you don't try to pull off something like "you dig" ever again." She nodded and held out a hand.

"It's a deal, mister." Then she tilted her head and grinned at him. " 'You have four smiles. One when you think someone's an idiot, one when you think someone's _really_ an idiot, one when you think it's a bad idea, and one when you look at me'."

"Like you said," his eyebrow was inched up. "Don't liken me to that… dude."

"Aw, come on. He was kinda cute. In this really dorky way."

"Precisely." Dawn laughed.

"Is your manly ego hurt that I would liken you to such a thing. Aww.." she made a mock-sympathetic face. "Poor Michael."

"Brat," he said, affectionately. She raised an eyebrow right back at him

"You have no idea." He laughed, then that laugh turned into a moan when she pulled his head down to hers for a kiss. How well their mouths fitted over each other, each movement so natural, so _right. _In her he found his home. Roswell wasn't it, though the gang had made it almost so. His home planet had long since ceased to be. In her he found peace. In her touch, like this. When she kissed him, there was nothing else but Michael and Dawn. Dawn and Michael. Nothing but her mouth on his, her tongue against his. Her hands on his body and his on hers. And him thinking this was something pretty big, because Michael didn't do the mushy stuff. This was the closest to mushy he'd ever gotten. Things had changed, a lot of things. Ever since that fateful day they had driven out of Roswell… Well, it might have been longer, before that. When she first started to come to him in his dreams.

He dreamt of her, this girl with her haunted eyes, her soft hair and shy smile, this girl who was so innocent one minute, and sensual the next. This girl who was willing to let someone lead one minute, then take the lead herself when it needed to be done, the next. The girl who was so comfortable with her dry books one minute, then could be out there and kicking major ass the next. His Dawn. His little package of contradictions. When they had arrived in Roswell… He had stood behind Max and Izzy, behind Maria, and his eyes had found hers and he'd felt such a shock of recognition hit him. There was the girl he had seen in his dreams. The very girl who he always found sitting quietly and watching life go by with a sad smile, content to just sit. The girl who came with the group of people that had said they had major ass-kickage to do.

No one had noticed it. He wondered how they didn't. At least, not straight away. They couldn't keep their eyes off of each other, he and Dawn. Every moment, their eyes would meet over people's heads, across rooms… Blue would lock on brown and… and then she'd smile that shy smile of hers, tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear and go back to whatever it was that she was doing… until their eyes would seek each other's again. Surprisingly, it was Faith that had noticed it, first.

"_D's got herself an admirer, yo," Faith had said, teasingly. "I gotta tell you, D, I don't blame ya. He's easy on the eyes."_

_"What?" Buffy's head shot up and looked around. Then he saw the way Michael was looking at Dawn and raised her eyebrow. Then she checked Michael out. "Sis, I'm almost jealous. He **is** cute."_

_"As Cordy would say, hello salty goodness," Willow agreed. Three pairs of eyes turned to her, complete with raised eyebrows. "What? I might be gay, but I can appreciate something pretty. And he's pretty."_

_Dawn giggled as her face flushed slightly. _ _"Guys, stop it. He's not interested in me."_

_"Are you blind or are you blind?" Buffy asked, incredulously. "He's seriously checking you out. Now that I see it, he's looking at you, all the time. And, you know, there's that look in his eyes as well. The one that says he could eat you all up." Then she smiled knowingly at her sister. "And seeing the way you're looking at him, I don't think you'd be opposed to the idea."_

_"Oooh, big word," Dawn teased her sister. Buffy's only response to that was to throw a pillow in her sister's laughing face. _

He missed them. All of them. His little family, and that little rag-tag group that Dawn had called her own. He knew she missed them. He knew she had nightmares, even though she didn't tell him. He still held her close, though. When she whimpered in the night, he'd pull her more securely in his arms and whisper soothingly into her words. It was the only thing that got her calm enough to fall asleep again… only to be disturbed by the nightmare yet again. At times he'd been tempted to slip her a sleeping pill, something to get her through the night without those dreams. But she would kill him if he did. Either that, or get hooked to the things. He didn't want to lose her, he _couldn't_ lose her. Not now, not ever. He needed her, he needed her like he needed water. It was like that almost from the start.

"_You're looking at my sister again." He had looked away from where Dawn was laughing at something Max had said and looked at Buffy, who was looking at him knowingly. _

_"Kinda hard not to. She's something special." He saw Buffy's face soften. He knew that if there was anything that would get him in her good graces, it was a speech like that. But Michael didn't say things he didn't mean. And he meant every word he said about Dawn. It kinda helped that, even though it was the truth, it made Buffy lighten up a bit. Because, you know, slayer strength, no fun when it was used against him._

_"Yeah, she is." She looked at Michael. "You hurt her, and I'll tear you another hole to use, you get me?"_

_"I thought the standard threat was that you'd tear my arms out and beat me to death with them." Buffy's lips twitched._

_"I can see you and Dawn will get along great." Then she sobered up. "I'm not kidding."_

_"I know," his eyes, which had been trained on Dawn the whole time, finally moved to look at Buffy. His voice when he had answered her had been quiet. "I know. And I'll give the standard honourable guy answer. If I do, you have permission to kill me. After I kill myself."_

_"I don't think that last bit was the standard honourable guy answer."_

_"No," he looked at Dawn again. "It's mine."_

He pulled back from her when air was becoming an issue. Her eyes were bright, her face flushed and her lips swollen. He knew he must look the same. Michael leaned down and gave her another kiss, quick, against her lips. She was pulling at him again, trying to get his mouth back on hers, but he held her off.

"I'm not really that keen on giving people here a free show," he breathed against her mouth, and she flushed slightly, at the memory of where they were. She let Michael lead them both back towards their cabin. He pushed open the door and let her in in front of him, then he closed the door and locked it behind her. He pulled her back into his arms, his eyes locked on hers, blue against brown, before his mouth descended back towards hers. He just brushed his lips against her own. Once. Twice. Then he deepened the kiss, ever so slightly. She moaned, and he used that to slip his tongue inside her mouth to explore, to tease her tongue with his own. Then he withdrew his tongue and paid an inordinate amount of time nibbling on her bottom lip, then laving it lightly with his tongue.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders and she felt like swaying. His mouth moved over to her neck and she felt his lips brush against where she knew the scars were. The puncture marks were. This was ritual, he brushed the scar tissue with his mouth, the kissed them. Then his tongue would dart out to taste, to soothe. God, rely on the sister of the slayer to have a neck thing, because she was melting, weakening. Michael could spend hours on her neck, she knew because they had timed it, once. Him just licking, nibbling, kissing her neck. She had been on the point of delirium at that point, her eyes almost rolled back in her head. Right now, Dawn's breath left her in harsh pants as he continued to tease her neck.

"Please," she managed to gasp out. "_Please_…" He moved his mouth, but no further than her shoulder. He slipped her coat off and lifted his mouth only long enough to get the sweater off of her. Then he unbuttoned the dark purple shirt she wore, just to between her breasts, and parted the shirt so that one shoulder was exposed. His mouth attacked her shoulder and she let out a little cry. "Michael." He looked up, his eyes fierce and he kissed her, hard. When he pulled back, his eyes were almost wild.

"I love you," he said. "I love you." Dawn's heart travelled to her throat at that, and she felt tears sting her eyes. She knew, of course she knew, but they'd never spoken of it, before. Their feelings for each other. There was always need, always want. But they never spoke of love, even when he was inside of her, even when they were curled around each other, recovering from sex. Never once had words of love escaped their lips. They knew how much they needed each other, wanted each other… but never were the words "_I love _you" spoken. Never. She pulled his face down to hers and she kissed him, letting everything she felt into that kiss, everythingshe had held in, before. She let all of her need for him, all of her reliance for him. All her lust, her pain, her anger, her hurt, her peace, her love in that kiss, while tears streaked down her cheeks all the while. Finally, she tore her mouth from his and breathed out that one word that made all the difference to them, both of them.

"I love you."

Michael smiled at her, pulled her back to him and just held her. Just held her to him, their hearts beating against each others'. There was peace, finally. Finally there was peace. In those words they had banished their demons, at least for a little while. They both knew that there was more, more out there that would come back at any time, come back to haunt them, but in those words, they let each other know that they would never succumb, that they would not be pulled down, be lied to by those demons. In those words they had finally found themselves and their peace, in those words they finally found their joy, their pain and their freedom.

They had love. They had each other. And they could fight. They could fight, again. They could live again. The neediness, the reliance… it was still there. They relied on each other, and doubtless forever would… but at least that reliance came from faith, from trust more than anything else. And that neediness… that was dispelled, somewhat. It was toned down. And for that they were glad, because the neediness was pulling them down, choking them. Scaring them more than they had ever been scared before, to need that much. Now… at least now it would be fine. It would all be fine. They both would make sure that it all would be fine. Nothing could possibly get in between them, nothing. How could it? How could they? They had each other and that love that they had finally spoken of, that love that had freed so many burdens from their hearts, that love had joined them so irreparably that they were finally one whole, as opposed to the halves that they had been, before. They had finally found their reason for being. In each other… they had found their meaning. Their calling.

Dawn found herself wondering if this was what her sister had felt for Angel, for Spike. Because if it was… if it was, then she felt a wave of sympathy so great for her sister that she had had to close her eyes. She finally found her love, this all consuming, soul stealing love that spoke of forever… and she never wanted to let it go. If this was what Buffy had felt for Angel… then she wondered how her sister had ever lived without it, again. How her sister had managed to do what she had to do. How she had managed to pick up the pieces. She so didn't blame her sister for running away, that time. How could she? That was the least Dawn would do. At the most… at the most she would insure that she and Michael be together… even in death.


End file.
